Diary of a Dead Man
by LadyLorena
Summary: Odin holds Loki's diary in his hands after the execution. He has his own thoughts about what he might find there, and he hesitates to read it at all. Let the dead stay dead. But he opens the cover anyway.
1. Chapter 1

Odin holds the volume carefully, as though it might be dangerous. It has only been a few hours since he stripped Loki of his illusion and ordered him executed without a name, a foreign traitor unworthy of such graces. He stares at the book, considering throwing it on the fire with the rest of the papers turning to ash in the roaring flames nicely warming Loki's former bedchamber. But he had told him he would read it in lieu of last words. He runs his fingers along the intricately bound book, admiring the craftsmanship, remembering the care Loki had once taken in every endeavour. He sets it aside and tosses another stack of letters on the fire.

He accepts that these things have happened and when he took the boy in, he knew somewhere in his heart that he would not be able to school out the savage nature of Jotunheim.

He lifts the cover and recognises the cramped, elegant handwriting that once copied lines from ancient books onto the hundreds of pages of loose leaf already burning. He presses his fingers to his forehead, wondering why was keeping his word to a dead man. Loki had been quiet and resigned to his death even as he knelt for the executioner. These pages would undo the silence, reveal the workings of his mind, and possibly reverse the illusion Odin believes, that Loki was at peace with his own death. He wants to delay telling Thor, still in Midgard and unaware of Loki's execution, that the illusion is over.

He takes a sip of his tankard, stokes the fire, and begins reading.

_Author's note- I am experimenting with format, so please bear with the short chapters- it seemed like the best way to break up the story into diary entries and the present. I would appreciate feedback as to how it works for you, as well as feedback on the story as a whole. Thank you!_


	2. Chapter 2

It has been many years since I wrote anything, but it seems my hand has not forgotten the task. I no longer can track the days- they blur into one another and I cannot tell if it is day or night. I time life by the delivery of meals and it has been years since I have seen the sun. There is no hope in this place.

I once was a prince. I do not know why I feel the need to write this. No one will read this and it is likely to be destroyed after my execution. But I suppose I need to mind myself of these things more than anyone else. I am Loki, once of Asgard, born of Jotunheim, and set to die without a realm to call home. But ones such as I deserve no identity. They would take my name if they could.

The cruelty of imprisonment is not the physical torture, but the slow degradation of the mind, slowly driven mad by the lack of stimulation. I have read the same books She left for what must be at least five years.

Even today I regret my final words to Her. I miss the scent of graceful spice that followed Her even when She appeared in illusion. I miss Her voice, comforting and and assuring. I wish for Her strength in these dark days.

She once called me Her most deeply curious child. I believed that to reference my thirst to know all things, but now I wonder if it was not a reference to my oddity when compared to Thor. It is yet one more thing I will never know.

I have many thoughts, but so little time to express them. My guards hint that my execution may come at the end of the week, and so I must write.


	3. Chapter 3

Her

The earliest memories I have are of Her gentle touch and of being curled against her, my tiny fingers woven in strands of Her hair as I tried to flee from someone thundering at me. I do not remember what for, all I recall is the fear and Her warmth, Her calm, and the feeling of Her lips on the top of my head as She held me and we waited for the tirade to pass. There were other days like this as I grew older, but this first one stayed with me so clearly as She sheltered me. I knew She would always be a safe refuge.

She defended me always, even when kindness was undeserved. Her wrath was something marvellous to behold and she unleashed it more than once on my behalf, once while I clung to her chest, sobbing. I had done nothing wrong intentionally, but my attempts to hide how badly that I had damaged a precious manuscript had only made things worse and my efforts to fix the pages had only caused more damage. I was sobbing when She found me, Odin rampaging about what he had discovered. I was trembling, knowing that his rage would soon be turned against me. I explained the best I could to Her. She tried to tell him. He would not listen- or perhaps he did and rejected my sincerity. And so I buried my face in Her dress and prayed for it to be over. When he finished, though, She tucked me in Her soft bed and then turned on him; I was but a small child and could not know better. I tried to help. I did my best and he ought to be ashamed to make me cower; he would not do so to his other son. She was my hero. She was even to Her death and it pains me to think on how I repaid Her.

This is one of my regrets- that all I have done hurt Her so and that I rejected Her love to spite Odin. That I had then realised that I did not have to deny Her, even if I wished to deny him. That I could not save Her because of my actions.

Enough, though. She is dead and shortly I will also.


	4. Chapter 4

If this diary survives me, I ask that it be given to Lady Sigyn.

Oh, Sigyn...how I will miss you. My dear girl, we were so much more than merely children together in our last years. You were always beautiful, and a delight to entertain, your wit and bright kindness more than any one person would ever deserve. I suppose that is why you gave of yourself so freely through the years, a wildflower in the trim gardens of Asgard.

Please, dear one, tell the children I have always loved them dearly. That the nature of their births was never an impediment to my care. I am still surprised by the names you gave them- Midgardian names, names I never thought worthy or beautiful until I heard them spoken with love by your lips.

You always have had a way with changing me, love.

Marian has to be nearing the end of her childhood, no? She was always beautiful, as stunning as her mother and as wild as well. She is sharp- perhaps even more so than you or I. Her cunning made me proud from the first time I found a herring in my shoes as a warning that I must tread carefully and be willing to put up with anything were I to continue to visit. May she continue to be so bold.

Little Rose, so small when I first met her, grew by leaps and bounds during the short time we all had together. Her inquisitive nature surprised me for one as young as she, and more impressive was the mind that sought to solve her questions methodically and scientifically. She will become one of Asgard's brightest scientists if she continues to feed her curiosity.

And Erik...what a tiny creature he was last I saw him. Attending his birth beside you was one of the most incredible experiences of my life. Given that it is to end soon, I can authoritatively state such a thing. Holding him in my hands first-emerged, damp in the blanket as I wrapped him, his first cries a miracle to my ears... I cannot forget how powerful that day was. How it changed my head and my heart in so many ways. And how it affirmed to me that you cared so deeply for me that you would permit me to share this with you and only you. I pray you tell him something of me as he grows. You and yours are the only people who might hold me fondly in their hearts for any reason. Even if you choose to tell Erik nothing of my life, please tell him what his birth meant to me.

All your children are beautiful. They are all reflections of you. I hope there is something after this life that allows me glimpses so I might see them grow and watch you take great joy in them.


	5. Chapter 5

Odin stops reading and stares at the fire. He considers throwing the diary on the logs. This is not what he expected to read. Children? He wonders if they are Loki's. Then something else dawns on him. These events of which Loki wrote did not happen before his fall from the Bifrost and could only have happened while he was sitting on the throne of Asgard. He wonders what Sigyn knew and believes that she may be an accessory to his treason. She had to have known who he was, and that he had taken the throne. But what if she had not? What if she had simply seen Loki appear at her door and taken it without question? Odin contemplates while sipping drink and returns to the diary. He will not burn it, not yet. He does not know if he will give it to Sigyn, but he does know that there are many more entries and he is curious.


	6. Chapter 6

I suppose I ought to expand on just what it was that Erik's birth meant to me. If this book is to belong to my Lady, there are things she has heard me mutter, half to myself while curled in her arms, that I have never fully explained. I have no doubt that she has figured them out on her own, but I ought to say them here, one last chance to be clear.

No one held me in wonder at my own birth.

No one delighted in my first cries, no one shed tears of joy at the miracle that was me.

My mother, I have learned, turned away from me and refused to allow me to suckle, instead refusing to touch me and leaving me in the care of a wetnurse.

My father then left me to die in the battle, knowing there would be no one minding the temple. I was a shame on my family then, as I am again now.

Erik's birth brought to stark light what I have been searching for my entire life- for someone to look upon me in wonder and delight, to be joyful at my arrival, and to see me as something more than just a nuisance, or, at worst, disposable, to be replaced by a better son later.

Perhaps this is why She was so precious. Even when I broke Her heart, She was still searching for something in me to be joyful over. Even when I rejected Her as I had been rejected at birth, She still called me Hers.

And then to be so lucky to have Sigyn open her door to me and to hear the delight in her voice when I stepped inside and dropped the glamour... I could not have hoped that twice in my life I would find such love.

I have wasted it, for certain.

But I ask for forgiveness, dearest Sigyn, and I would from Her if it were possible.

You are the only one who might mourn me.


	7. Chapter 7

Odin notices that word. Might. As though even Loki was not certain if this woman he loved so dearly would grieve his death.

Odin wonders if she did. If she felt for Loki as he did her. He wonders if he should call for her. He wonders if, perhaps, one of the older children might be Loki's, or if even the younger child is. There was enough time during his absence from the throne for such a thing...

He picks the book back up, hoping to find out if he has grandchildren, but hesitates as he turns the page, wondering if they look Aesir or not.


	8. Chapter 8

The guards are glancing at me repeatedly today. There must have been some new verdict in my case or new twist to my imprisonment or my execution. Perhaps they mean to take me today.

I will not resist. This must end and I have no reason to escape again. I have no where to return to but the Void and I would rather die than fall again.

Perhaps that is how they mean to execute me- to toss me over the edge. I wonder if I might find out in advance so I can poison myself instead if that is what they mean to do. I will not return to the creatures below. They are worse than death and would not this time allow me to escape.

Ah, but there is why I do not believe I will be thrown over the edge- they cannot guarantee I will not return, damaged, mutilated, cursed, and bent on vengeance. They cannot guarantee I will die and that the creatures beneath will not twist me further to destroy Asgard. They sought to twist my pain once and they did well. They can do so again, I am certain. One can only endure so much.

Someone comes. I will write more after this message is delivered.


	9. Chapter 9

I will be executed in a week's time in my born form, stripped of my name. This is considered a blessing, as I will simply be executed as a traitor-guest, not as the son of a king to whom I feel no affection. No one will know who is being killed on the chopping block next week. No one will jeer the fallen prince, only the blue demon they see stripped and whipped before them. The audience will, no doubt, be cruel. They always are.

Dearest Sigyn, I hope you do not see. And I hope the children do not see- they do not need to learn the same terrible stories that I did. They do not need to know I am the monster that hides in the woods to eat the poor, defenseless Aesir children who stray from the straight path. And they most certainly do not need to learn that we must cheer for the death of those monsters as though they love no one and are not loved by anyone at all- that they are simply animals without feeling for one another in the least.

How would my childhood have changed had I never heard those stories as well?

Sigyn, had circumstances been different, I would teach your children differently. I would teach them to fear no monsters, to fear only the hatred that can be found in the hearts of those who see monsters everywhere.

This must seem odd, given my life, but when one has only time to sit and await death, one thinks, and one thinks deeply. One mulls on pain and picks at it and drains the wound, watching all the horrible infection that has grown up around it run off as it is rinsed clean for the first time.

I see things so much more clearly. The unwanted child, the child brought as a trophy. A mother that learns quickly to love a child not Hers. A brother just young enough to never really know the difference or to understand that Mother never bore the younger. And a father who is more king than parent, unable even now to see the younger as anything but a monster. Perhaps it is my actions that changed his view of me, but perhaps also it never really changed from when he first saw me, naked and blue, wriggling and crying for parents who would never come on that rock in Jotunheim.

And this pain was far more than I could bear. Instead of doing what I had always done- trusted my secrets to you, my darling Sigyn, I attempted to best him. To become what he had never been- the one to finally kill the monsters, to show him that I could destroy them and thusly destroy in me what it was we both hated so much. To be the demon-slaying king. The self loathing grew far faster than it ought to have. And when he said no...even if it was a quiet pleading for me to stop, all I could see was cold blue eyes and one more rejection of what I am.

The thing under the Void fed this, as dirt feeds infection, and, my love, you know the rest. Power, arrogance. Revenge. A throne. And, finally, a return to you.

I should have done so when I first discovered what I am, but I was far too afraid. I did not believe anyone could keep me, even you, with your boundless patience and gentle kindness. If my own parents could not love me, why should I have expected you to?

Because you have never shown me anything but, that is why. And yet I failed.

Please, again, my love. Forgive me.


	10. Chapter 10

Today I have learnt that Thor is not in Asgard, nor will he be for the execution. This may be for the best. I will not have to endure his repeated assertions that we are brothers and that he has never seen me otherwise and he will not have to watch my head cleaved from my shoulders.

I should not be so harsh on him. Thor is not so much a simpleton as I wished to think of him as. He has, for so many years, looked out for me. This must have been a difficult habit to break when I returned as his foe. I did not think I would fight him in Midgard. It was a weaker realm and I the conqueror. Of course, I had not counted on those who called themselves the Avengers. I did not count on Thor being amongst them. And I most certainly did not count on the large green man who could not be killed and revelled in smashing my army to little bits. The metal man was right- having him was equivalent or greater to my having an entire army at my disposal.

And I never did get that drink.

But back to Thor.

I ought to write him a letter- to do something to tell him just what I now know about the nature of brotherhood thanks to the many hours spent mulling on my life, but I do not know what to say. I cannot ask for forgiveness, as I have forced him to think of me as an enemy and rejected him even after he spent so long searching for any news of my survival.

Perhaps it is best to let his memories of me die with me. I have given him no good reason to remember me.


	11. Chapter 11

She appeared in my dreams last night. One day closer to my execution and all I can think about is Her and how I failed Her, even though I did take vengeance for Her death. Would She be proud of me for such a thing? Would She look upon me kindly and allow me to explain why I did what I did after? I could not return to Asgard and surrender to the dungeon. I cannot willingly clip my own wings.

Would She kiss my cheek after I fell to my knees to beg forgiveness of Her? Would She comb my hair and braid it as She calmed my fears and assured me that She would intercede on my behalf to stop my impending execution? And if She could not, would She hold my hand as I walked to my doom? Or would She be forbidden, only granted one final audience in the hours immediately prior, far too short a time to fit a lifetime of words unspoken?

My dear Mother, I wish you were beside me.


	12. Chapter 12

There are only a few days left.

Dearest Sigyn. I have so much I would like to say to you. I wish we had found one another in a different time.

I cannot forget that you were so unsurprised that I was adopted. I cannot forget how you held me as I wept for the first time over my grief at discovering my life was so broken and that it was my fault. I could have done things so much differently.

Regrets, my love- I have but a few of them. I regret everything about my last words to my Mother, that you know. I also regret that I did not cleave to you in times of darkness. I regret that I am leaving you and the children. Find something else to tell them to explain my absence. I do not want them to think I am to be executed in this way, a common criminal stripped of name, rank, fine garments, and every scrap of ceremony that could identify me as formerly a member of the royal household. Tell them I am yet imprisoned, tell them I have been shipped off to another realm to be imprisoned far away. Tell them I have died of a broken heart in these cells (for if I could, I believe I would have already done so). Tell them being locked from my spells has deprived me of my spirit and I withered away. Tell them anything but the truth.

And some day, please tell Thor that I do appreciate that he always came for me, even when I least deserved it.

I regret not asking you, darling woman, to be my bride when I came of age- of course, I hardly had done so when I sealed this as my fate before my fall, but I ought to have done so.

Of course, had I, none of your children would have been born as they are and I cannot stand the thought of them not being just as delightful as I knew them.

I wish I had not been caught and we could have continued our secret life.


	13. Chapter 13

I realise that if there is anyone but Sigyn reading this, they may believe she is treacherous and not to be trusted.

On the contrary, Sigyn is the one person I would trust with my heart entirely, even its darkest corners.

Sigyn's loyalty is to be commended. When I revealed myself to her, she had no questions about what she should do. She was fully dedicated to the friendship we had grown for so many years and to keeping peace in Asgard. She would not help me overthrow the order of things. She began to restore me, little by little, telling me that I could not do anything that I would not have done years before when we dreamed under the ancient boughs of the Oak of the things I would do when I was king. She kept my hand steady and my thoughts clearer than they had been in years. The brutality of kingship did not enter her doors and when I left and resumed that mantle, her words and kindness followed, slowly softening me until the day I slipped and released Odin early.

That day...oh, how beautiful it began.

Sigyn's courtyard was blooming, and the children were with her mother. We delighted in one another's company, our bodies entwined, the sun warm on our skin. We did not need the wine to make us relax into one another, the day itself had us drunk. We spoke of love and of a future we both knew would never happen. I left gifts for the children.

And when I returned to the palace, I forgot the spell was weakening and that I had to refresh it, to strengthen it, to keep Odin confined to his sleep.

Everything ended quickly, the smell of roses still lingering in my hair.

So here I sit. Flogged daily, of course, as a matter of routine, and the memory of that sunlight the last in my mind. I hope the day I die is dismal so I can leave with my eyes closed, holding that sunlight in my mind as the last I ever felt.


	14. Chapter 14

Odin stares at the page. He had not realised that his son was ever in love with anyone at all. He had not thought to ask what he had been doing through the year he had been confined.

He remembers the day Loki died- the sky had been black. Loki asked for no last words, but bowed his head in silence, his eyes closed.

He wonders, for a fleeting moment, if he made the right decision. He wonders if Loki might have healed given enough time with Sigyn.

He wonders if there would have been grandchildren of his own and laughter in the halls, a romantic Loki caught with Sigyn curled together in window nooks reading to one another, flowers braided in her hair.

He stops himself. There are other pages to read and there is no use wondering when what is done is done and dead is dead.


	15. Chapter 15

My beloved Sigyn, I do not know what else I can put into words. I have done terrible things, but I cannot undo them. I have no one to blame for my death but myself.

Yet.

Yet if I had not done these things, you and I would not have connected, would not have had those sweet dreams together in the courtyard or curled in your bed. Or perhaps we would have, but at a different time. Or perhaps I would have simply died in the Void and nothing would have come of it at all.

I do not know.

I cannot know.

And perhaps that pains me the most. Not knowing and wondering if, had I not, and had you accepted me for what I am, we would have had more time.

I would usually say that what is done is done and it matters little what I wonder, but given that tomorrow I will die, likely by the axe, there is no time later to wonder and worry. Why not spend these last hours envisioning a life of happiness, possibly pretending that it would have happened in time, and smiling as I go?

Or not. It will likely only make me quite sad to think of these things.

I should try to think of nothing at all.

I could also write letters to each of you.

But I cannot think of what else to say. This diary seems letter enough.

Dearest Sigyn, I love you. I would hope for more flowery last words, but they fail me. Tell the children, as I have said before, that I love them, and that I was blessed to hear them call me Father for as long as I did. I hope I did well by them.

Wherever my ashes are buried, likely in a pauper's grave, unmarked on the outskirts of the city, I ask that once a year on a date of your choosing, you bring a rose and briefly remember me. No more, for I cannot stand the thought of you shedding tears for my sake.


	16. Chapter 16

In only a few hours, this ends.

I should write a letter to Thor. I can think of no words to say.

But I still should.

Breakfast has arrived. A last meal fit for a prince. I will write after.


	17. Chapter 17

Odin turns the page, but there is nothing there. The remaining leaves are blank. He shakes the book and a folded piece of paper falls from behind the back cover. He opens it.


	18. Chapter 18

Thor,

You did not see me die, so you do not know if it was a dignified death or not. You do not know what I did or said, but I will assure you they will not know it was I being executed- between Odin's removal of my glamour to my refusal to speak, you can rest assured that Asgard does not know that one associated with you was executed for treason this day and that you claimed a brother in Jotunheim. You can continue, if you so wish, to believe that the monsters in the dark look as I do.

But I hope you will not. I hope you will consider what those stories have done to me and what it meant when you promised, as a child, to slay all of the monsters. What it meant for me to recall them years later when I discovered I was one of them. I hope you will consider this when you have your own children. Perhaps different stories are in order- stories of the wicked Chitauri who inhabit the void and lay torment on all those who trespass there- that, at the least, is true. Or you could stick to stories of adventuring when we were children to inspire a healthy curiosity in your own offspring.

Please look in on Sigyn now and again. She is still quite dear to me and she will be raising three children entirely on her own. They are beautiful children, smart and wise, and I hope your own may one day befriend them.

I cannot ask for your forgiveness for all the damage I have done to you, but I can put your heart to rest about one single thing- I no longer wish you would stop calling me Brother.

I wish I could hear you say such a thing one more time.

Loki.


	19. Chapter 19

Odin slips the page back in the book and stares at the flames. When he leaves the room, the diary comes with him. He has business to attend. He calls for an attendant to bring Sigyn to the palace. He has questions and the only other person who could answer them he had executed.

In only a few hours, Sigyn stands in front of his throne. She is dressed plainly, her face veiled.

"Do you know why I have summoned you?"

"I can guess, your highness, but I cannot be certain."

"You were close to Loki."

"Yes."

"How close?"

"Very. Enough that my children knew him." He wonders if it is polite to ask about who the father of these children are and she senses the question in his silence, "They were not his. But at the same time, they were."

"And you knew who he was when he sat enthroned?"

She knows revealing this is implicating herself in treason, but with her heart broken, she can see no way to lie her way around the obvious answer, "Yes. He came to me as a maid and once inside my home, he revealed himself."

"You told no one?"

"Of course not. We live quiet lives and he was happy with our quiet lives, and my children were happy to have their own secret to keep."

"Did you not wonder what had happened to your king?"

"Yes. But I also knew that my king would take my beloved from me should he return. That has proven true."

"Your beloved committed treason."

"My beloved was still my beloved, treason or no."

"Do you know he was executed?"

"Yes. I was present."

Odin is surprised, "You recognised him?"

"He revealed himself to me when he was yet free."

"And you were not afraid?"

"My beloved is still my beloved, no matter his colour or blood."

Odin is taken aback by her honesty, but moreso by her willingness to look past Loki's heritage. He stares at her a while, then paces. She does not move. She bows her head and waits in silence.

He slips the letter from the back of the diary and steps down to her, "This belongs to you. Go. And tell no one what you know."

She nods her thanks and takes the book in both her hands, then clutches it to her chest. She drops to her knees, shuddering with sobs, as he leaves.

Odin does not think of her again. Thor returns from Midgard nearly a month later and Odin tells him of Loki's execution and hands him the letter. Thor flees. He flees to Svartalfheim, to the plains where no one lives, and he destroys anything that he can- rocks, barren trees, remains of the skiff they flew in on.

He destroys things until he finds himself standing in the spot where he watched his brother die.

"I am a fool..." he whispers. He opens the letter and reads it slowly, carefully, every word precious. When he finishes, hot tears roll down his face and he cannot be ashamed of them. "For you, Brother, I will tell different stories. And some day, I will tell your story and the story of those who love you."

He calls for Heimdall and returns to Asgard. He wanders until he finds Sigyn's door and knocks. She answers. Neither speak, but she steps aside to invite him in. He hands her the letter. She reads. She hands him the diary and retreats to the kitchen, returning later with small cakes and tea. He takes his time with the words. She follows along with him, reading upside-down from across the table.

When he reaches the last page, he speaks for the first time since entering her house, "What can I do?"

"My children loved him dearly."

"As he did both them and you."

"Yes. And I him.

"Then let me be their uncle, let us build family. And I will tell them stories."

"They know he is dead, but I have not yet told them how. Marian knows, though. She is old enough to put the pieces together."

"There will always be a piece missing."

"Yes. There will."

Thor reaches for her hand, "Please. He will always be my brother. And if you were his beloved, then you are my sister."

She searches his face for any sign of a cruel trick and finds none, only sincerety, grief, and tear streaks. She nods.

"For him."

"Yes," Thor squeezes her hand, "For him."


End file.
